


A Working Mother

by JoJo



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Fever, Gen, Magnificent Seven AU: Little Ezra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:28:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3064424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoJo/pseuds/JoJo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Should she stay or should she go?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Working Mother

Cousin Archer’s wife said she’d thought about summoning a doctor. But she’d decided not to – partly because she wasn’t sure if someone like Maude Standish would feel it necessary, spare cash apparently being so tight and knowing how Maude hated an unnecessary fuss, and partly, thank the Lord, because the child seemed so much better.

Maude could only wonder what she had missed, those hours she had been absent downtown - if this... this fractious, overheated bundle of misery was any kind of improvement. It was true, though, that she could hardly afford to call for a physician, even if things had gone rather well for her this evening.

Inside the back room at the top of the house, the comforter that used to belong to Cousin Archer’s mother-in-law had been lying on the floor, some way from the foot of the bed.

“Kicked it off,” cousin Archer’s wife had murmured from the doorway, just the hint of censure in her tone. Maude supposed that as far as she was concerned, delirium nothwithstanding, there had been some juvenile bad behavior on display. And goodness only knew how capable Ezra was of that....

Next to the old, dark wood bed the night light seemed dim, leaving the room in near-darkness.

“To calm him,” cousin Archer’s wife had informed her when she raised her brows askance. “So he could sleep.”

By the redundant lamp the pitcher of water was still full and the small cup and tea-spoon un-used.

“He wouldn’t take it.” Oh, how defensive the woman had been. “Lord knows we tried and tried again but he just wouldn’t.”

Maude had cast a look over her shoulder – she had never warmed to this dumpy, self-righteous housewife with her lace caps and her rosary beads, never saw in her what cousin Archer claimed to – and then shut the door with her elbow, shut her out.

Her silk skirts swished cool in the darkness as she crossed to the night-stand and put out a hand to the lamp. When the light came up, her child’s hot eyes were on her. She’d expected him to be sleeping after what cousin Archer’s wife had said, felt her heart quite turn over in shock. The eyes were disturbingly glassy and confused, as if the boy didn’t know her at all. Which, frankly (for she could be honest with herself), would be no real surprise.

“Hello, darlin’.... See, I’m back!” She made her voice bright and cheerful, re-arranged the sheets, was disappointed when he didn’t respond.

“I don’t know,” Ezra said, as if to himself, even though he was staring at her. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Now, child.” Maude felt herself floundering at his anxiety, although she tried to keep her response measured and soothing. “You don’t need to know what you’re doing. You just need to lie quiet and let Mama take care of you.”

“What am I doing?” The question was not directed at her. It was puzzled rather than plaintive.

“You shush, darlin’. You shush and let me cool you down. That’s what you need, some nice cool water. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

She may as well have asked him if he’d like to fly to the moon.

But Lord knows she tried. Propping him up against the bank of pillows she offered the cup, and then just the spoon. Only Ezra would shiver and flinch away, turning first one burning cheek and then the other. Asking again and again in a stubborn kind of panic what he was supposed to be doing.

“What have you gotten in your head, child?” she murmured, trying hard not to be exasperated. “You don’t need to know, not at the moment. Just rest.”

The missing instruction was the only thing there was, however. It was all his fevered little brain wanted, all that he had to rely on. And there was the rub, she supposed. For while he was so young yet, she had taught him, best she could when other relatives were cooing or interfering, to stand on his own feet. Not to wait for assistance from divine or human sources, but to always have a plan. Always. She thought it a vital life lesson, one to keep him sharp. Not to mention, in their world, alive.

Finally, hair slicked down in little half-moons on his forehead, he slept limp and heavy against her breast. She stared down at the damp rosy skin and dark lashes, hardly knowing him, and wondering jealously who else had ever been in this privileged position. Knowing that this was what mothers did up and down the land. She did not often feel part of national motherhood.

Ezra, after all, had been very tiny the first time she left him. Too tiny for him to know any different, she’d told herself. Too tiny for him to remember, for she’d thought it would only happen once, since it was so important. The thing was, after that first time it just became easier. The break in her heart healed up quicker. And then it didn’t quite break any more. Just bent sometimes, enough to cause a nagging pain that usually straightened itself out once her affairs went well. And, of course, it always did seem to turn out vitally important that she keep leaving... to maintain their modest coffers at capacity , so she explained to him, gratified when he’d nod in solemn approval.

“Perhaps you can come with me next time I go away to work,” she said in a whisper, and then chided herself for thinking he could hear her. Poor child was exhausted, far down in sleep.

Nevertheless, she imagined his hand creeping along the counterpane to rest on her sleeve, his clear, open eyes shining in pleasure, looking right at her. “Can I, Mother, oh can I?”

Then she thought about the practicalities, looked at the fine bones of his fingers, the neatly manicured nails. Remembered in a rush of clashing emotions how much looking-after a curious five year old required. She did need to go away in a day or two again. Just to make sure that certain arrangements would remain.... agreed. Two days – that would be far too soon for a small boy recovering from a nasty bout of fever. Really – really – he would be far better off with cousin Archer and his wife.

She stroked a finger down a cheek, softer than kid gloves.

“Perhaps next time, darlin’. Perhaps next time.”

She felt a flare of fraudulence heat her face for a second. Then when it cooled, she settled him tenderly against her, sat almost straining toward the drapes, hoping for a sight of the dawn.

 


End file.
